The Ghost of You

**I never said I'd lie in wait forever
If I died, we'd be together
I can't always just forget her
But she could try**
- My Chemical Romance: The Ghost of You

He feels the bile rising in his throat, seeing her lying there, blood pooling around her head, the bullet hole right between her eyes.
He has to look away, to break the gaze with her dead eyes, he knew he had to. He was the only one who could.

Gibbs had gone after Ari, telling him to stay there with the…with Kate. He wouldn’t have been able to move if Gibbs had wanted him to. Wouldn’t have been able to force himself to go after the bastard who shot her, be able to leave her there, alone and…dead.

She couldn’t be annoyed at him for leaving. She wouldn’t say anything about him running after the terrorist. She wouldn’t say anything again. Ever.

It was suddenly very cold, the air charging with something that left goose bumps up and down his arms and neck, sending shivers down his spine. There wasn’t any wind, and there was no sign of a chopper or anything that could cause a chill like this. And then he felt it. Like a soothing touch, a gentle caress. A hand on his cheek.

But there was no one there, just him and Kate, and Kate wasn’t going anywhere. He looked back down at her, at the crimson halo that at formed around her, matting her once silky raven hair and staining the concrete below. His fingers itched to close her eyes, to stop the staring. But he couldn’t. Ducky, or whoever did the autopsy, would need her the way she fell. Unaware and laughing. It just wasn’t right.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, with Kate. Didn’t really care. It was Ducky who came to the rooftop, who placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and told him it was okay to leave. He looked back at Kate, not wanting to leave her but not wanting to stay with her either. It was the eyes. The eyes that were usually brimming with laughter and humour. Eyes filled with compassion and trust. Eyes that delved so deep into Kate’s very own being that Tony felt sometimes like he could just gaze into them for hours. Now there was nothing, no light, no sparkle. No hint as to what previously hid behind those beautiful eyes.

He pried himself away. Unable to bear the pain of seeing her like that. He was too afraid that he’d break down, and if he did that now, with his gun still in his hand, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

He forced himself down to the car; McGee was there, sitting on the ground. He decided he’d join the younger agent. The ground was a good place to be, he couldn’t fall any further from there. They sat there, in silence. Neither had to say any thing. They had both lost a friend, both lost a colleague. McGee had never lost a friend in the line of duty before. He had been there while they tracked down Pacci’s killer, but that wasn’t the same. He didn’t know Chris like he knew Kate, wasn’t as close to Chris as he was to Kate. That made all the difference.

There was a shadow looming over him, he looked up, seeing Gibbs standing there, gun still in hand.

"Did you get him?" McGee asked, voicing the question that he could see written on his boss’s face. The bastard had got away, again. He’d shot Gerald; shot Gibbs, now he’d killed Kate. There was no way Gibbs would let the FBI stop him from killing Ari Haswari now. Double agent or not.

He was half glad. Then there was just the numbness again. Because Kate’s killer had got away. She hadn’t been avenged; he hadn’t been brought to justice. It was unlikely the terrorist would be stupid enough to return to the states again; at least not anywhere Gibbs could get him.

Soon McGee left, Gibbs leaving soon after. He just sat there on the ground, letting everything pass by, trying to blank out the events of the day, ignoring the burning in his chest, the pain in his heart, thinking about his Kate, someone he care deeply about, and the vision of her head exploding in front of him, blood splattering his shirt as her body fell to the ground lifelessly.

He was taken back to NCIS headquarters with Ducky, the ME unable to travel with Kate because of his close relationship with the Agent; another one of the NCIS’ team would take over the case. He sat in his car for a while after Ducky had left, making sure he was fit to drive. He wasn’t, not really, but he objected to being babied, and he wanted to be alone.

But that wasn’t true either. He didn’t want to be alone; he wanted to have her back there. Back with him. He drove home on auto pilot, got into his apartment and stopped.

She had cleaned it while she had visited, during his recovery from the Y. pestis. She had been there when he was in hospital, she had been there when he was let out, then she was there when he had the nightmares, when he woke up coughing up blood and struggling to breath. She comforted him, helped him calm down, and did what no other person ever had for him. She had actually cared for him, cared enough to stay with him. And he had liked it, enjoyed having her there, knowing that she was there because she cared. About him.
They had actually admitted it to each other then. That there were feelings that surpassed the sibling relationship they had previously. Ducky had touched on the subject before, the sexual tension between them. It had been rectified, they had told each other how they felt. He had held her close as she confessed her fear of losing him before he knew how she felt, had rocked her to sleep when she started to cry upon realising how close he had been to death. At that moment he had thought he would be happy. That they would work through it and grow strong together, get married, have children and grow old together and very much in love.

He had said those three little words the night before he returned to work, whispered them in her ear after they had made love for the first time. Kissed her gently and bared his soul to her. Only to have her wrap him up in her arms and kiss him passionately, telling him a hundred times that she loved him too. He had seen there future that night, in dreams of a long and happy life.

But reality was harsh, and now even her scent around his home was fading. He lay on his bed, inhaling the scent from the pillow she had used last night, clinging to the bed sheets she had lay under, he cried. Mourning the lost friend, the stolen love and the cherished person who had been ripped brutally and thoughtlessly from his life. He had only just found her, had only just begun to think they would be able to have something special. And then it was gone.

The only place he’d hold her, the only place he’d see her and feel her now, was his dreams. She beckoned him, called to him, enveloping him in a warm darkness as he finally gave in to sleep.

"Hi love." His voice sounded.
A beaming smile met him, dancing brown eye sparkling with joy and love.
"Tony." And then he was in her arms again.

**At the end of the world
Or the last thing I see
You are
Never coming home
Never coming home
Could I? Should I?
And all the things that you never ever told me
And all the smiles that are ever ever...
Ever...**


END